Mush
by ardavenport
Summary: Jedi heal amazingly well. Qui-Gon POV recovering after mission with Obi-Wan.
1. Chapter 1

**MUSH**

by ardavenport

**- - - - Part 1**

* * *

"Qui-Gon?"

_Something is wrong._

He moved his head.

_Obi-Wan._

His thoughts circled and settled. White ceiling, gray walls, pictures, pale blue metal. And Obi-Wan. This was not wrong.

"Master? - -ee_- - - --_- - -ee_aee- -_- - - -_-oo_ -ee_ - _ - _- - - - - - - - -." Obi-Wan's voice. He focused on the face; blue eyes, brown hair, braid. So, earnest. . . Obi-Wan moved closer to him. "- - - _ - -an- -_- -oo_ - - - _- -_- - - -."

Obi-Wan was close. A bit of plastic with something damp and soft on it touched his lips. He flinched.

_No, no, no . . . The droid . . . the droid . . . did that._

There, behind Obi-Wan's head. All blue steel and curved, slender joints. Little head with big eye sensors shifting positions. He could feel Obi-Wan's breath on his brow. The cool squishiness nudged his lips again. He winced away from it.

"Uuuuhhh . . ." Sound. Not loud. Something down in his throat. He did it again.

"Uuunnnnhh." He stared down at a layer of smooth pale blue. Covering him. The moan came from him, but . . .

_Obi-Wan._

The words went to his lips. "Uuuee-aaahhn." They barely moved. He was suddenly aware of how very little he could move.

_Something had gone wrong._

The percept of a hand under his chin and on his cheek, his brow, his head turned back again toward Obi-Wan. His numbness melted, his senses returning from beyond his body, through Obi-Wan. With Obi-Wan. He felt warmth on his skin, clarity. His head lying on the soft padded surface, his eyes half closed. Awareness stirred, sharpened.

_The Force._

He felt it now. It had been there, but now it mattered . . . like his own body. His head swam with it. He had no strength, but it was all around him. Next to him. In him.

_Obi-Wan._

He felt his weakness, the wound in his middle, repaired but still fresh. The numbness in his arms and legs, his head, stale and too full behind his eyes, his stomach and chest tight, and a false prickling on his skin and . . .

_Something is quite wrong._

But he had not realized this wrongness a moment before. Something was better. He looked up into Obi-Wan's blue-gray eyes and nodded his head a tiny bit. Obi-Wan's face changed to happiness and he felt that, too, through the Force. Time . . . time . . . he needed time to draw strength from it. But it was there. Obi-Wan's head bowed, below his own.

His body lay, nearly immobile, propped up on a medical couch.

_Injury. but that had been expected. The droid . . . we brought the droid. We were ready, but . . . something had gone very, very wrong._

Obi-Wan lifted his head. Tears ran down his cheeks. He could sense a struggle for control. Feel it though their wordless bond.

_No, this is not the time for control. That was earlier, that was . . ._

He could not reach out and touch Obi-Wan's face. But their eyes met and he nodded, a tiny little gesture that could mean anything. But there was understanding. Obi-Wan wiped his face on the wide sleeve of his tunic. He wore the same clothes he'd worn when . . . when . . . .

He lowered his own gaze. Attached to the medical couch was a white tray, on it a green cloth, a clear shapeless bag with a tube in it and a small plasti-form bowl with a little blue spoon sticking out of the gray blob in it.

_Ugh. That came from the droid. Squeezed out of a tube and I would not take it from the machine. That is why Obi-Wan is sitting here._

It was likely medicinal, and necessary, but even his half-aware senses had rejected it. It was revolting. It was even more revolting now that he could smell it. Fruity and faintly sweet. And he did not want it.

Obi-Wan's fingers touched his cheek, his beard. He looked up into those blue-gray eyes again, saw a crinkle of concern between them. Obi-Wan lowered his hands, picked up the bowl and turned to the droid hovering behind him.

"Do you have something else? I don't think he likes it."

_I understood that. Good._

"That is the proper nutritional meal. My supplies are limited," the droid's simulated female voice calmly said. But it accepted the bowl.

"Can you change it then? Make it a little more . . . appealing?"

"It can be stirred. And thinned."

"Can you warm it, too?"

"Yes."

"Please," Obi-Wan finished and turned back. His own eyes moved, meeting his Padawan's; lifting his head was too much effort. His lips moved.

_Thank you. Obi-Wan._

His mind still had not reformed what had happened, but he knew that Obi-Wan had been with him. His Padawan raised his hand to his cheek, then stroked a stray stand of hair back from his face. His hair was loose, untied, falling down on the shoulders of the white medical gown he wore. He sensed the Force again through that touch. Obi-Wan's healthy living strength . . . he was unhurt, dressed in his Jedi tunic. They had taken their robes off earlier, for . . . for . . .

A whirring from the droid stopped. It beeped and lifted it's head and eye sensors.

"Padawan Kenobi." The droid, Gee-Three-Nine, handed the bowl back. Yes, they had brought the droid with them, from the Temple med-center. It had scanned both his and Obi-Wan's medical histories and had full emergency programming and extra, self-contained supplies. It was quiet and polite but it had long, cool metal fingers and more probes than Qui-Gon liked to think about. And it had added programming for their mission . . . .

Obi-Wan held the spoon to his lips again. His eyes found his Padawan's again. In that little pause he thought he must look quite pathetic to Obi-Wan, there was so much sympathy in the young man's expression, such need for a response.

He opened his mouth a little, accepting the spoon. The edge of it hit his teeth.

Obi-Wan grimaced and slid it in further and then turned it and took it out, leaving the contents behind. Instead of cold, pasty fruity mush, it was now warm, whipped fruity mush. Qui-Gon had to think about how to swallow before he did. Obi-Wan gently put his hand under his chin, on his throat to make sure he finally got it down.

The next spoonful of mush went down better, with no clashes between spoon and teeth. And unconscious memory seemed to take over for swallowing. Obi-Wan wiped a bit of it from his mustache afterward. Then he put the cloth down and gave him water.

The droid had given him water. Earlier. He was sure of it. It now busied itself with sensor screens nearby, one eye occasionally rising to observe another spoonful or sip of water. It could move astonishingly fast when it needed to. Qui-Gon remembered it poised over him, metal hands ripping open his tunic, needles plunging into his exposed chest, a tube snaked down his throat to keep his airway open . . . .

He coughed over the water tube as he remembered that and Obi-Wan hastily pulled it away, dribbling water in his beard. Qui-Gon felt drops on his neck. His arms twitched and moved. His strength was returning. A little. But he felt drained of it when the coughing fit was done.

Obi-Wan's concerned eyes looked into his and one eye sensor studied him carefully over his Padawan's shoulder. He nodded and managed a tiny smile. Obi-Wan dabbed at the wetness on his chin and raised the water tube to his mouth again. He laid his hand on his cheek to steady him. It went down better this time. Then came another spoonful of mush, another wipe of his mouth.

Yes, they had brought the droid with them. He had been expecting to be impaled. For the ceremonial trading of blows. The Ulheedi had scoffed at a Jedi accepting the challenge in the name of the Republic. They had known that a Jedi could dodge or deflect any weapon. They had not expected Qui-Gon Jinn to take the blow. And then calmly pick up his own lance to take his turn. The Monarch-Presumptive Rladar had fled the field, taking her claim to political power with her.

But they had not expected his opponent's lance to be poisoned.

_Aaaah. Poison. That is what went wrong._

He had sensed it. Obi-Wan had sensed it. Something had been wrong. Something very wrong had been coming. But disturbances in the Force were notoriously lacking in specifics. So, they had gone forward, knowing that the unknown danger was great, and unknown. A Jedi Master could subtly move, so that even a penetrating blow would miss all internal organs. He had admonished his Padawan to calm himself and observe. Obi-Wan did not have that skill; he was barely twenty years old and still a Padawan.

Had only Rladar's lance been poisoned? He remembered outraged shouts from the official observers around them as he'd fallen, Obi-Wan and Gee-Three-Nine catching him. Surely such a dishonorable act would make Rladar's fall more severe. Qui-Gon wanted to ask, but he did not have his voice back. And Obi-Wan had just spooned in more mush. His tongue pushed it around and he swallowed. The motion was much easier now, familiar, more automatic. The mush was not nearly so bad if he did not look at it.

He breathed in deeply. He felt wellness returning to his body, his limbs. The food seemed to revive him. He closed his eyes, feeling the Living Force around him, within him, his body righting itself from within. Slowly. His senses expanded beyond his body and the healing meditation came upon him easily. The Living Force spoke to him and he listened.

oooo(((oooooo(((oooo)))oooooo)))oooo

**

* * *

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###### JEDI ORDER ##### Temple-Med-Center ######

_(Goos,yllm,M33,voz) = [Cmm;PPPiii /// VoER)_

%%%_&Tzzm(*:*:*)-{Ere,H,KNOKHHonoyg ?? = BB ==

.... Internal_Diagnostics ...... Internal_Diagnostics ....

.......... Power Minimum ..::::... Power Monitor = On;Blue ...;;;...

....... Treesearch .... Umask ..::::.. Orem .... Zuk, Tem ...,,,,......

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**_ _ _ _ _ _ ________ POWER UP ________ _ _ _ _ _ _**

%%%% STATUS: ___ Qui-Gon Jinn - - - Master - - - - Injured

# %%%% Archive#RefN: Jedi - Icf44.823(Qvee775) %%%% #

()()() ======= Puncture wound: sector A7.x90 === ()()() =========

=== Abdominal intrusion: severe ===== ()()()() ======= ()() ===

==== ()()() ===== Internal organs: minimal injury ========= ()()()()()

==== Infection: none - preventative measures in effect ==== ()()() ==

== ()() ======== patient active, conscious healing: unimpaired; in progress == ()()

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**

* * *

- - - - End Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**MUSH**

by ardavenport

**- - - - Part 2**

* * *

The room had not changed.

_Obi-Wan._

The voice-sounds formed words.

"- - -still unavailable, Minister."

Another voice, sharpened by the flat tone of a com, replied.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping to speak with him before your departure. Your Master's extraordinary assistance has immeasurably benefitted this whole world."

"Thank-you, Minister."

Qui-Gon heard the tiniest hesitation; a lack of inflection colored the words as more formal recitation than either acceptance or gratitude. He opened his eyes a crack.

Obi-Wan bowed before the com. Formal, polite, Stiff. Qui-Gon could tell that he wanted to end the communication.

"I will inform Master Qui-Gon that you wish to speak with him before we leave."

"Thank-you. I will expect to hear from him. Day well to you."

The tiny transparent bluish figure fizzled and vanished over the holo-com.

Obi-Wan released the tension in his shoulders, exhaling.

"I do not recall you being so distant with Minister Urideni before the challenge."

Startled, whirling about, Obi-Wan stared back at him. He had been too distracted by the com to notice that his Master was watching, but Qui-Gon was disinclined to admonish him at the moment.

Obi-Wan came to the medical couch. Aside from a residual coldness in his muscles and on his skin, Qui-Gon sensed that his strength had returned. He firmly squeezed Obi-Wan's warm hand. His Padawan smiled.

"I'm glad to see that you've recovered, Master." The sincerity had returned to his voice.

"I am as well."

Qui-Gon pushed himself upright. The coverings on his wounds pulled at their edges on his stomach and back, as well as the cleave within him. He moved more carefully.

Opposite Obi-Wan, the medical droid, Gee-Three-Nine, remained close, but the machine did nothing other than reposition its eye-sensors. His long hair fell down around his face and he reached up to brush it back. A painful twinge pulled in his middle again. He moved more carefully.

Under the coverings, the edges of his abdominal injury stretched uncomfortably, as if they wanted to break apart. He was far from completely healed, but he could move. Carefully. He could breathe. He coughed, very carefully. It still hurt.

"Would you like some water?" Obi-Wan offered.

"Yes, Thank-you," he gratefully accepted. Instead of a fluid bag and tube, Obi-Wan went to a water dispenser, brought it to him in a cup and offered it to him. Accepting it with only his hand and forearm, Qui-Gon successfully isolated that motion from the rest of his body. But he had been doing exercises like that since he had been a youngling. It was easy. He just had to remember to do it.

After a moment he put the cup aside and swung his legs off the medical couch. After Gee-Three-Nine confirmed that he was well enough to stand, the droid lowered the medical couch so his bare feet could touch the floor. Qui-Gon stood. Slowly, with small isolated motions. Traces of the paralyzing poison still blurred his sense of touch, but more like a bad memory than a confinement. Stiffly, he allowed Obi-Wan to slide a thin, pale green body covering over his shoulders.

Obi-Wan stayed close as he tested his weight, flexed his arms, shoulders, knees and hips. One thing at a time; muscles, tendons, joints, everything shifted subtly and separate from his injury. But the twinge inside his middle was deep; it went right through him, front to back. Its effects would linger for awhile. Qui-Gon sighed. His Padawan kept his hand on his back, above his injury, where the spear had exited.

Qui-Gon took a step forward, then another. He turned and began walking down the length of the small room they were in. The fixtures, cabinets and gray walls were typical of med centers.

"Where are we now, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked.

"The local Congress's private med-center. They insisted on helping, but. . . . .I did not trust their medical droids. I was uneasy about their. . . . . programming."

"Always trust your feelings my young apprentice."

"I do as you have taught me, my Master. Especially now." A small pressure from Obi-Wan's hand on his back prompted him to turn before they ran into a cabinet. Their legs stepped together, Obi-Wan's boots never coming too close to Qui-Gon bare feet on the cool floor.

Patiently, Obi-Wan walked with him, protectively close. Through the Force, Qui-Gon could feel the strength of a healthy, uninjured body and he let all thoughts fall away from him except that goal. And his own injuries reflected in Obi-Wan; his Padawan sensed them. Qui-Gon kept his head up, resisting the urge to watch his feet, partly for focus and partly to keep the long strands of his loose hair from falling over his face.

They paced up and down the room together several times. With each step, Qui-Gon felt more like himself, feeling all parts of himself, moving together, becoming whole again and not just a pierced body with limbs. Qui-Gon sensed his apprentice's earlier anxiety and hope settling into contented patience and he drew strength from it. Jedi accepted death when it came, but that did not diminish the will to live, nor the exhilaration of surviving and living.

At last, Qui-Gon steered himself toward a chair and Obi-Wan helped him lower himself into it. Though he was weary, the minimal exercise had felt good. He lowered his head and a curtain of hair fell down over his face. Moving just his arm, he pushed it back on one side. A hand, Obi-Wan's, touched his face and brushed the hair back on the other side.

A com squealed for attention and immediately Obi-Wan's attitude changed to hostility aimed at the device. Or the person signaling them. Obi-Wan reached for the com, but Qui-Gon beat him to it with a wave of the hand and the Force. Minister Urideni's miniature image appeared.

"Minister," Qui-Gon started loudly. The holo-com's recording light immediately switched to him.

"Master Jinn, I am so grateful to see you well again."

"As am I," he responded politely.

"I was hoping that we might meet one more time, share a meal, before you leave?"

A warning tickled Qui-Gon with unease. He glanced toward his frowning Padawan before answering.

"Of course, Minister, if you will allow me a short time to dress and prepare for your visit. We will be returning immediately afterward for Coruscant. Our mission here is finished."

"Certainly. I shall signal before coming, of course."

Qui-Gon cut the communication. The warning remained. And expanded.

"Master, I sense a disturbance in the Force. Almost the same as before."

Qui-Gon nodded sadly. He felt ill prepared for a confrontation. He had concentrated on healing, but his mind also needed sleep, release. But he knew he could wait until the trip back to Coruscant, after he had fulfilled the last formalities.

"We will confront it when it happens."

Obi-Wan looked back at him unhappily, but said nothing more. They had to go forward.

"Keep your focus on the moment. The Force will guide us," he said reassuringly. Obi-Wan's expression smoothed into acceptance, though they both felt uneasy. "I need my clothes," he continued, moving on.

From a wall cabinet, Obi-Wan produced boots, belt, pouches and a stack of folded clothes. And Qui-Gon's lightsaber.

Holding up his tunic, Qui-Gon examined the damage. There was an enormous rip in it, front and back. Not even his tabards and obi would cover it up. There were matching holes in his undertunic as well. Glancing toward his Padawan, he noted that all the clothes were freshly cleaned and he realized that he did not know how long he had been incapacitated during which Obi-Wan would have tended to them.

"I wasn't able to get a droid to repair it," Obi-Wan confessed before adding, "Minister Urideni openly questioned whether or not that would be necessary."

"Aaaaah," Qui-Gon answered, better understanding his apprentice's discomfort with the minister. "Then we shall both mind everything he does very carefully."

Obi-Wan helped him take off the body covering. He held up the underclothes while Qui-Gon, still sitting in the chair, slid his arms and legs into them and pulled them on. Then Obi-Wan kneeled before him to slide his pants onto his legs. Closing his eyes Qui-Gon paused before pulling the pants up. The Force felt thin inside him for a moment before he renewed his focus.

He sensed Obi-Wan's blue-gray eyes on him before he opened his own again. He held the tunic. A shared perception of his weakness connected them through the Force.

"Perhaps we should delay this meeting, Master?" he suggested.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No. This will be no easier if we wait. And I do not believe that physical strength will be beneficial for this confrontation." He finished the fastenings on his under clothes and pants.

"I do not sense that weakness will be beneficial, either," Obi-Wan muttered, holding up a tunic sleeve for him. Qui-Gon's thoughts caught on those words as he let Obi-Wan put the clothes on him.

"No. . . ." he said almost to himself as he sat forward to wrap the obi around his middle. "Weakness might actually be what is called for. Since it is what I have now."

His apprentice looked puzzled as he kneeled again, putting on socks and boots. Qui-Gon was not sure what he meant by his last remark either, but it felt right.

After he had put on his belt and lightsaber, he pushed himself up from the chair, the Force supporting him as much as Obi-Wan's arm. Still steadying him, Obi-Wan reached for the robe. After some fumbling between hood and sleeves, they got that on as well. But something was still missing. Frowning, Qui-Gon looked around him.

Grinning, Obi-Wan held up the long brown strands of his hair tie.

"May I, Master?" he asked.

If his life depended on it, Qui-Gon felt quite certain that he could fasten his own hair if he needed to. But it didn't.

"Yes, thank-you."

Qui-Gon sat down again, allowing Obi-Wan to put it on. While Obi-Wan finger combed his long hair back, Qui-Gon reflected how significant the most ordinary actions became when limited by pain. How many muscles in the most likely parts of the body were connected. The muscles in his neck and shoulders contracted after a twitch on the scalp when a single hair was pulled. He heard Obi-Wan inhale sharply, untie the hair and stroke it back into place, smoothing away the tiny pain. Qui-Gon smiled. Everything was connected.

Minister Urideni's com signal came just after Obi-Wan finished tying Qui-Gon's hair back. The young man hurried to put his own robe on. A moment later Urideni came through the door, two aides behind him. They were a matched set in tidy, perfectly tailored uniforms of office, light gray with yellow accents of rank. All three had single black horns projecting from their foreheads and reddish-gold hair with Urideni's a bit more gray in places than his youthful aides.

**- - - - End Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**MUSH**

by ardavenport

**- - - - Part 3**

Standing, his hands folded before him, Obi-Wan bowed formally, but Qui-Gon remained seated, his arms on the rests of the chair. He only politely inclined his head. Urideni did not seem to notice. His relaxed expression did not conceal the tension Qui-Gon sensed in him through the Force. Something had not gone right for him, though his aide were blissfully unaware and looked up the Jedi with undisguised awe.

"Master Jinn, you look much improved."

"Thank-you, Minister. And I presume that your situation is as well?"

A tiny hesitation in Urideni's golden eyes, and a little crinkling about the skin around his horn and on his forehead betrayed the minister's unease, but his voice boomed with confidence. "Much improved indeed. Monarch-Presumptive Rladar's claim is utterly destroyed. We are free forever of the old tyrants. Thanks to you."

Behind him, the aides exchanged knowing and joyful expressions. Which meant they did not know anything. At least about Minister Urideni's situation.

"Protocol would require that we honor you with a feast of gratitude. But we recognize that you cannot stay here long enough to recover. That the service of the Jedi is needed elsewhere in the galaxy. But I beg that you would share a brief meal with me. Here, of course, to spare you any unnecessary ceremony."

Qui-Gon a light and detached sensation fluttered in his chest, as if he were going too fast, too close to danger. Obi-Wan's eyes silently signaled his own warning.

"Of course, Minister," Qui-Gon replied, smiling. "But I must ask that it be brief."

"Of course, Master Jinn," Urideni rumbled. The aides did not even wait for his signal. They exited and almost immediately returned with a floated table with several covered dishes on it. After guiding it between Qui-Gon and Urideni, one aide began laying out the meal while her companion retrieved a chair for Urideni. Qui-Gon surveyed the minor feast before him as he might a phyradnian viper about ready to strike.

_Poison_

Stilling Obi-Wan's almost voiced objection with a glare, Qui-Gon calmly looked back at Urideni who had missed the exchange as he sat down.

"I am impressed with your hospitality, Minister," he said kindly as one aide laid a polished blue silicate plate and goblet before him. "But because of my injury, I must respectfully decline your food. I am only able to consume sustenance provided by our medical droid. You understand, of course."

Urideni's face went slack as if he had not comprehended Qui-Gon's words.

"Of course, Master Jedi," one aide said in the silence that followed. "We are happy to accommodate your needs, especially after you suffered so valiantly for our world," she fawned over Qui-Gon, dipping her horn toward him.

"Yes, of course," Urideni's repeated, recovering his voice. "I hope that your apprentice- - -"

"Traditionally, Jedi Padawans only eat what the Master eats. It is an essential discipline of Jedi training."

Now Obi-Wan's face lost all expression. There was no such requirement. But Jedi discipline did demand that a Padawan follow a Master's lead. Qui-Gon saw him swallow hard but he said nothing. Their medical droid remained as well; it had said nothing about diet limitations related to Qui-Gon's injury. Qui-Gon doubted that there was anything as severe as what he had just told the Minister, but Temple droids were programmed to be discreet.

"Yes, certainly," Urideni said blankly.

While one aide served the Minister the other one helped Obi-Wan.

"Were you well acquainted with Monarch-Presumptive Rladar, Minister?" Qui-Gon asked. He heard very unappetizing splatting, burping sounds as the droid squirted its medicinal nourishment into the bowls that the aide provided.

"Uh, no. We had met, but we never spent any social time together."

_That was a lie. A very significant one._

The Minister picked up his eating scoop and then put it down with a clink. He was not fearful of anything on his plate, but protocol demanded that he wait for his guest to be served. He seemed as bothered that he had almost committed an act of bad manners as he was about wanting to poison his guest.

The aide and Obi-Wan returned with the bowls and cups of plain water. Looking down, Qui-Gon saw a fluffy pinkish-gray mash in the bottom of his bowl. Medicinal, pre-digested, safe and suitable for even the most stricken patients. Obi-Wan appeared to be struggling to keep his expression neutral over his bowl.

Qui-Gon noted that the aides stepped back to take positions by the door. He had been concerned that Urideni might be willing to sacrifice his underlings with his attempt, but this was apparently not a danger.

"Please begin," Minister Urideni invited. Qui-Gon nodded and took a tiny small scoop from his bowl. One glance prompted his Padawan to do the same.

It was still revolting. Warming only made it taste like over-cooked sweetness. When it dissolved in the mouth it left behind a wash of lingering grains of nourishment that clung to the gums.

Urideni crunched into a healthy scoopful of nutty mash and then took a sip of fragrant wine. Both smelled very good.

"What will become of the Monarch Presumptive now?" he asked, taking another dainty scoop of his mush.

"She is condemned. Unless another life if traded for hers." The ministers looked down at the lush meal between them. Qui-Gon watched the hands of the man opposite him. They lifted a small bottle of spiced oil and sprinkled some on several flats pf pressed grain cut in the shapes of a stars.

"Since she is disgraced, that would seem unlikely," Qui-Gon observed, sipping his water.

"Mmmm, it is a terrible waste. Unforgivable." Urideni grumbled, biting off half a star. Little crumbs fell down onto his plate as he finished it and surveyed the dishes before him. He reached for a cylinder of fried vegetable wedges.

"I presume that the Congress will select a new leader from its members?" Qui-Gon casually inquired, taking a small bite from his bowl. His eyes flicked toward Obi-Wan, prompting his apprentice again since his eating scoop had remained still for too long. With a solemn, detached look Obi-Wan continued with his meager meal with a very small bite.

"If they can find a worthy candidate." Urideni ate with loud lip smacking sounds. "And if they can't, I don't suppose that will stop them from choosing a favorite." Reaching for a plate of small cakes, the minister suddenly pulled his hand back. His elbow up, he claimed the plate, his arm held away from a bowl of red marinated fruit.

[u]_The poison._[/u]

"You sound a bit discouraged, Minister. Surely, they will select someone suitable."

"Our world is in need of better than 'suitable', Master Jedi." Urideni finished one cake and picked up another.

"Perhaps yourself, Minister?"

Eyes wide, Urideni froze. But Qui-Gon sensed no fear, only surprise. He did not covet power; he did not see himself as a supreme leader.

"No. I am not worthy," he finally said, taking a colorful stick of cubed proteins, dripping with savory brown sauce. He bit into them, sliding two off the stick with his teeth, one after the other.

Qui-Gon took another small bite of mush. Next to him, his eyes cast downward, Obi-Wan followed his lead.

"It is a pity that you cannot sample this excellent food. Surely your constitution could accept something simple. The essosk is excellent." Urideni gestured toward the poisoned fruit. "Perhaps if you consult your droid?"

Qui-Gon thought that this man must not have ever tried to poison anyone before, he seemed to be so bad at it.

"Hmmm," he said, lifting one hand. "I suppose that I might be permitted a small taste."

Immediately, Qui-Gon sensed the duel impact of Urideni's suddenly ignited hope and his Padawan's alarm.

The bowl lifted in the air, slowly rising. Eyes wide, Urideni watched, fascinated. Qui-Gon's fingers twitched.

The bowl suddenly flew up in an arc to fall over the side of the table. The poisoned fruit splatted on the floor, the bowl clattering and rolling away. With an exclamation of distress, one aide hurried out to get a cleaning droid.

"Oh, how careless of me," Qui-Gon commented casually.

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Urideni's head snapped toward Obi-Wan.

Rrrrrrrrr-rrrrr-rrrrrrrrrrrr. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-rrrrrr-rrrrrr

From the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon saw his apprentice's horrified expression, his hand automatically covering his rumbling stomach, two-thirds of the unsavory mush still in his bowl.

Rrrrr-rrrrrrrrr-rrrrr

Looking as if he had been poisoned himself, Urideni's face and thoughts froze. Qui-Gon calmly gazed back.

"I believe our meal here is finished. Minister," he said politely.

Urideni's eyes flicked down to the floor and then back up at the Jedi sitting opposite him, across the table laden with the mini-feast he had brought, untouched by his intended victims. He visibly swallowed.

A panicked turmoil of thoughts roiled the Force. Urideni in disgrace. Rladar, beautiful and proud, cursing Urideni. Confrontation with Qui-Gon. Being struck down by Qui-Gon's lightsaber. Angry words. Explanations. Accusations. Isolation. Guilt. Ruin.

Unable to distinguish which images were pure fear and which were possible outcomes, Qui-Gon remained silent, though he was fairly certain that Urideni's fear of being killed by lightsaber was the Minister's own fancy.

"Yes, I believe it is," Urideni answered in a defeated voice, "finished."

He stood and Obi-Wan jumped to his feet though the Minister seemed not to notice. His eyes remained on the Master seated before him. Looking puzzled, the remaining aide stepped toward him; the second aide returned with the cleaning droid which immediately set to work on the mess on the floor.

"Obi-Wan."

Blue-gray eyes alive with tension, his Padawan looked back at him.

"Please get our ship ready. Now."

Looking wary of leaving, Obi-Wan still bowed and hurried out while the aides took away the floated table and the food. His face stricken, Urideni paused in the doorway on his way out.

Qui-Gon remained seated and folded his arms before him into the wide sleeves of his robe.

"Day well to you, Minister."

Urideni fled from the room.

oooo(((oooooo(((oooo)))oooooo)))oooo

**

* * *

*****************************************************

###### JEDI ORDER ##### Temple-Med-Center ######

_(Goos,yllm,M33,voz) = [Cmm;PPPiii /// VoER)_

%%%_&Tzzm(*:*:*)-{Ere,H,KNOKHHonoyg ?? = BB ==

.... Internal_Diagnostics ...... Internal_Diagnostics ....

.......... Power Minimum ..::::... Power Monitor = On;Blue ...;;;...

....... Treesearch .... Umask ..::::.. Orem .... Zuk, Tem ...,,,,......

***************** UNIT GEE-THREE-NINE ****************

%%%% STATUS: ___ Qui-Gon Jinn - - - Master - - - - Injured

# %%%% Archive#RefN: Jedi - Icf44.823(Qvee775) %%%% #

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== ()()() ======= Puncture wound: sector A7.x90 === ()()() ============

========== Severe abdominal intrusion: healing ===== ()()()() ==== ()() ===

==== ()()() ===== Minimal internal organ damage: healing ======= ()()()()() ==

========= Infection: none - preventative measures effective ==== ()()() ==

== ()() ===== patient active, conscious healing: unimpaired; in progress == ()()

STATS: %%%""""""%%%""%%%%"%%%%%""%%""%%"""%%%%""%%""%%""%%%%%%%""%"""""""""%%%%"""""""""""""""""""""%""""""%""%""%""%""%""%"""""""""""""""%%%"""""""%%%""%"%"%"%%%%%""%"%%""""%%%%%"""""""%%%%%%"""""""%%"%"%%%%%%""%""%"""%"%"%"%"%""""""""""%%%%%%""""""%""%""%""%""%""%"%%%""%"%"%"%""""""""""""""""""""%%%%"%"%"%%""""%%""""%%"%"%%%%"%"%""""""%""""""%""%""%""%""%""%""%""%""%""%""%%"%%"%%"%%%"%"%"""""""""""""""""%"%"%"%"%%%%%""%%""%%"""""""%""%""%""%""""""""%""""""%""%""%""%""%""%""%""""""%""%""%""%""%""%"""""""""""""""""""""""%%%%%%%%"""%"%"%"%"%""""""""""%%%%%%%%""%"%"%"%"""""""""""%"%%%%%""%%""%%""""""""""""%"%"%"%%""""%%""""%%"%"%%%%"%"%""""""%""""""%""%""%""%""%""%""%""%""%""%""%%"%%"%%%"%"%""""""""""""""%"%"%"%"%%%%%""%%""%%"""""""%""%""%""%""""""

**

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- - - - End Part 3**

**

* * *

**

NEXT - - EPILOGUE


	4. Chapter 4

**MUSH**

by ardavenport

**- - - - EPILOGUE**

* * *

A fat blue julaberry threatened to roll off one of Obi-Wan's laden plates. Qui-Gon snatched it from the air just as it escaped. Sitting down, Obi-Wan put down first the large plate and then the plate and bowl balanced on his other arm.

"Thank-you, Master," Obi-Wan said, looking a little embarrassed.

Holding the julaberry between thumb and forefinger, Qui-Gon surveyed the various salads, fruits vegetables, seeds, spicy casseroles, protein spreads, crackers, mini-muffins, rolls and desserts. Each portion was very small, but Obi-Wan seemed to have sampled nearly everything from the buffet. Still recovering from his injury, Qui-Gon had only modestly filled his plate. If he wished, he could go back for more. The YoozEatzAllz Buffet allowed for unlimited refills (for Humanoids) for a flat price.

Qui-Gon had never been to the YoozEatzAllz before; it was located on the far side of the Senate complex from the Jedi Temple. But Obi-Wan had been there a few times with other Padawans. When Qui-Gon had been released from the Temple med-center and he suggested that they share a meal in the city, Obi-Wan had chosen the YoozEatzAllz.

Sitting across from each other at a small wall booth, they could see most of the main room with the buffet pit in the middle. They were between peak eating times, so the place was only about a third full. Qui-Gon noted that most of the other patrons appeared to be Republic government workers.

He popped the julaberry in his mouth. It was firm and sweet and ripe.

"I am given the impression, my young apprentice, that you felt deprived on our last mission?"

Obi-Wan, whose mouth was already full, had to chew and swallow before answering.

"I apologize for being so obvious. On our mission." He took another bite.

Qui-Gon laughed and sampled his own food.

"A Jedi makes many sacrifices," he reminded. "Though I do believe that the medicinal nourishment was more appetizing than the poisoned fruit that Minister Urideni offered."

Obi-Wan grimaced as if this was not such an obvious choice and Qui-Gon smiled again.

"Will Urideni die for the Monarch-presumptive?" Obi-Wan asked, putting down his eating scoop, his expression serious.

Sighing, Qui-Gon shook his head.

"I cannot forsee that. He had feelings for Rladar. He admired her. He lusted for her. But I cannot say if there was any love for her. At least the kind that would lead him to sacrifice himself for her. Though he was quite willing to sacrifice us for her. My death in particular would have allowed her to be spared. I can only presume that he planned to attribute my death to complications from my injury.

"You did well to deny his medical droids access to me," he said, nodding. "They would not have been programmed to improve my health. Your intuition about them was true. The Force is with you."

Obi-Wan smiled back, his blue-gray eyes glad. "And with you Master. I could not have done as you did. Take Rladar's pike."

"Skill, Obi-Wan. And discipline. Which you will learn." Qui-Gon's mouth quirked into a half-smile as he watched Obi-Wan take another bite from one of his plates.

"I believe that we should work on some of that discipline when we return to the Temple. Control of the body, of its functions is a discipline that you have already mastered to some degree, but we shall work on your inward focus. The flow of the Force inside the body, connecting all the parts within is the same as it is for all living things, but still unique."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied eagerly. He was still a few years from Knighthood, but Qui-Gon had confidence in his ability and his keenness to learn. "I shall look forward to it." He bit into a juicy filled roll.

"Well, we can begin already. At least in preparation for manipulating the inner body. And with reviewing the elementary skills that you already know. Certainly with not being distracted about minding the odd noises that it might make."

His mouth full, Obi-Wan looked back, surprised and blushing a little bit. His Master held up a cautionary finger.

"We'll start with not eating too much for lunch," Qui-Gon instructed with a smile.

**oooo(((oooooo((( – END – )))oooooo)))oooo**

(This story was first posted on tf.n: 2-Mar-2008)

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


End file.
